#because I'd moved cross country like the month before

[tj-crochets]

Hey y’all! If you ever find a charity that is going to do an auction as a fundraiser, and that auction is online and is willing to let me mail the winners their prizes instead of requiring them to pick up the prizes at a specific location, let me know? I really want to donate more things for charity auctions, but my best fundraising items would be fandom related* and those will do much better in an online auction than an in-person one *I already do the Marvel Trumps Hate auction every year, but I have so much non-Marvel stuff I want to make! Pokemon, Studio Ghibli, Momo and Appa from Avatar...there are so many options to choose from

[starstrike]

I'm obsessed with how Shivers will outright tell you that the anodic music kids will fail. I think this implies that, even if you build up the club, nobody will ever visit it.

I think this was one of the times in Disco Elysium that I really... got it. After reading this, I decided to tell the kids to scram. They wouldn't succeed anyways. It felt terrible. I reloaded my save; I couldn't stand to do anything else. Just because hope, beauty, or love are temporary, does that make them any less valuable? Just because you know something will be snuffed out doesn't mean you shouldn't try. That hope and love is valuable for its own sake.

At the time, I was going through a severe depressive episode. I was moving out in six months before moving cross country, so why should I bother investing into my environment? I had this old fish tank I'd poured effort into, once. Got some new fancy aquasoil that would be great for my plants, but it needed time sitting underwater. I left it like that for… oh, months. This damaged, empty, sad little thing that I had once loved immensely.

But building that nightclub with those kids made me change my behavior. I got myself a $6 betta fish, shoplifted some plants from petco, and built my tank up again. Even knowing I'd need to break it apart. So what if it ends? So what if the dance club never becomes popular? You build something and dance with your community, even if your dream fails. Even if it ends. There was love there.

And I think that's one of the things Disco Elysium is about. The kids and their nightclub is a microcosm of the knowledge that the pale is enroaching on Insulinde and the rest of the world. There is a literal, tiny, hole in the world inside of that church. The hole is another reminder of entropy, of the End. And all of this takes place in an edifice of a centuries-old regime and a religion of maintaining the status quo. A religion of broken glass and broken promises. But you take those shards and build on top of them, transforming their meaning. You grow, you build, instead of apathetically letting things remain the same. You find hope and beauty and love even though you know it's unsustainable.

Because the 'now' is valuable in itself. And I love that about this game.

[jupitervega]

fleein the south part II

hi, i'm ri & i'm an autistic nonbinary trans guy-lite-ish person. 4 years ago i moved out to denver from mississippi (where i was born & raised) & immediately had a massive improvement in my quality of life. i was able to access medical & psychiatric care, my career stabilized, people were addressin me with correct terms for the most part, & i was startin to feel like life had finally begun

unfortunately when the lease ran out on our house end of summer last year my roommates decided not to renew, & then the people who were gonna be my new roommates backed out last minute. in a panic i looked for other options but with time runnin short & top surgery approachin i decided to recover at a friend's house & move back to mississippi once my surgeon cleared me to travel cross country so i could regroup somewhere i figured would be less expensive & at least somewhat familiar

that, friends, was a very costly & painful mistake! every single problem that made me wanna move away in the first place has only exacerbated!

i'm comin up on 8 months post top surgery, i have a beard, & i'm still gettin called ma'am/she/her. trump flags & signs still adorn many yards/porches here. hatred & bigotry run rampant in local politics. the other day i didn't even enter one of the convenience stores in the town where i live when i stopped by because they had posted a very thinly veiled racist sign on the door

when i arrived back here i was not even a full month outta surgery & i had a minor complication, so i went to the emergency room cause what else was i sposed to do? applied for charity as i had around $100 to my name at that point, which i THINK? got approved? also applied for mississippi medicaid the same day, which got denied almost outright as i have no children. so i've been uninsured since november & rationin the 3 month supply of my psych/migraine meds i received before leavin colorado for goin on 7 months. never mind bein able to access hrt!

job prospects here are Not Great! i've had to collect unemployment for a while as i cannot for the life of me find a full time job with a livin wage. otherwise i literally cannot make ends meet as the jobs i've held so far down here are payin average 50% or less of what i was makin in denver. even with the part time gigs i've had i have yet to crack 30hr/wk on any kind of regular basis

housin is an absolute shitshow. my lease is up 1 july (got a month extension) & i've been searchin everywhere for an affordable place of my own or at least a good roommate. the more affordable studio/1bd apartments go for around $700 & up, but most have income requirements of 2.5-3x the monthly rent which, considerin previous point abt wages, is near impossible. roommate listins are available but the majority are questionable at best & seekin a live-in bangmaid at worst

with all these considerations i spent the past few weeks feelin worse & worse lookin for somewhere close to the job i currently have. the leases are like 6mo-1y so i was picturin another year down here & how i was gonna survive, let alone thrive. my thoughts got darker & darker. i'd wake up in the mornin & be sad/disappointed i'd survived the night

this is no way to live

i snapped a few days ago. said to myself "if i'm destined to struggle wherever i go, i'd rather do it somewhere i actually Wanted to be in the first place" & started applyin for housin in denver. waitin to hear back from my first option & have secured a backup with a friend with a spare room for 6mo in case that falls through

right now i need help gettin the hell out! i've got first month's rent already put back, i can continue to collect unemployment until i land a good job in denver, & i'm already reachin out to find somewhere to work. i just don't have anywhere to go for another month or two to save the money i'll need to travel almost 1200mi (~1900km) back to colorado. i'll need at least $500 to make gas/food happen durin the time it will take me to get there, & i need it by the first of july (38 days from day of postin)

please help me escape!!!

ca: $jupitervega

vmo: jupitervega

ppal

please please please donate whatever you're able! pls boost!

thank u so much for readin, pls have an item from my emergency happy photo folder for yr enjoyment

[agentstarkid]

This little story turns one year old this July 31st!

We hopped with Girlie on a rollercoaster of finding (true) love, being quarantined in a foreign country, lots of internet meanies, making new friends, angst, heartbreak, depresh sesh, finding love again and so much more to come -- What a wild journey it's been, and I'm so proud I took the leap!

Looking back a year ago, I can't believe how far this story and I have come. I remember being so full of uncertainty and nerves to post that first chapter, and now, a whole year later, I'm writing little blurbs and one-shots in a whole different language to my main one.

And to celebrate this milestone with you guys, the DAN-Y/N stans out there, and as a thank you for all these 365 days of support and love to Danielito & Girlie's love story—a.k.a. my baby—, I put together a list of dialogue prompts from where you can pick one—or as many as you'd like—and send it to me so I can write a little blurb to go with it!

You can request a specific moment on the fic you'd like to see more (c'mooooon, they were together for 2 whole years! Let's see if you've been paying attention hehe), or just make a general request with a quote of your choice (or you can suggest one! Can't promise much on this, but I'd try my best to bring it to life, unless it is smut. I can't write smut for shitzels yet soz).

I'll be accepting resquests for the next 2 weeks!

✧. ┊ Series Masterlist

P.S. Fingers crossed next month I can—finally—post a new chapter! Adult life has been kicking my ass these past months so please be patient with me! — But my inbox is always open to talk! :)

— All the dialogue sources are linked!

“These are way too many, omg, I’m being squeezed by these pillows, love!” “Well I just, you know, thought that since you like to hold on to me while you sleep but we can’t do that right now, I decided to bring you all these.” “Aww, I appreciate it, baby, but would you mind moving some? And even though I do have these, I will miss your warmth beside me.” 

“You weren’t uncomfortable back there, right? I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” “No, no, I wasn’t. Thank you for doing that.”

"You had no business looking that good back there."

"Those could be our kids one day." "What...?" 

“They don’t know you, love. They don’t know how much we love each other. Let them think what they want to. It doesn’t matter, you know why? Because you are enough. We are enough.”

“I don’t want you to be perfect, sweetheart. I want you to be who you are.”

“I…I wasn’t sure if you’d like this, so I just bought all the colors they had there.”

“Stoooop. Stop making me all…” “All… what?”

“Sorry. I just... like seeing that I have an effect on you, I guess.”

“Life would suck complete testicles if it weren’t for you.” 

“I like seeing you this way. so… at ease. makes me wonder how anyone could ever purposely put you under stress and live with themselves afterwards.”

"I know you're struggling right now, and it's okay, okay? We'll get through this."

“With you, I see a forever I’ve never envisioned before. Not that I didn’t want to, it’s more because I wasn’t able to… At least until I met you.”

“God, I really don’t want to leave”.

“I’m so deftly terrified of falling in love. Because what if I end up with a broken heart? That thought itself is just so scary to me. I want to, but I can’t get over that fear.” “Then how about you let me be that first step you take into falling in love? I can help you get over that fear, if you’d let me.” 

“People say they fall in love like they fall asleep — slowly, then all at once. But the way I fell for you can only be described as that feeling when you’re drifting off to sleep, only to feel like you’re falling, oh-so-suddenly. So suddenly that it ends up startling you awake; heart racing in your chest because it feels like you fell off the precipice of a cliff. It’s quick and sudden, and there’s no slowness to it. It’s a crash and burn type of love that I feel.”

“They say the second time’s the charm.” “Was the first time not charming enough for you?” “No, but the second time’s going to be even better, I promise.” 

“If people can hate for no reason,  then I can love for no reason too.”

“I dunno who taught you that love comes with conditions and limitations, but mine doesn’t. Not when it’s you.”

“I don’t know how to ask for help i just— I’ve never had anyone to ask for help from before.  so…this is me trying i guess.  I need it and i’m afraid to ask for it.  That's the best I can do.”

“You really think a relationship should be that hard?” “No one writes songs about the ones that come easy.”

“If you don’t kiss me, right now…” “Then what?” “Then I will have to do it myself.”

"I think destiny wants us to be together, and you should never argue with destiny.”

“What do you think is our song?”

“I can’t concentrate, when you look at me like that.” “Well, you should be concentrating on me instead, so…”

“Sing for me.” “What would you like to hear?”

“I feel like I can breathe better with you around.”

“You’re much better off without me.” “You’re not the judge of that.”

“I love you, okay?! And I can’t stay in your life when I’m just ruining it.” “You can’t just say that and don’t wait for me to answer.”

“Your mom is coming over today.” “Tell her to bring fried rice or she’s not invited.” “You tell her, she’s your mom.” “But she likes you more!”

“Wait, you can’t swim?” “I was always more into sports on land where, you know, I can’t drown.” “I will teach you!”

“Every night before bed I write three good things that happened to me. And every night I find myself writing down your name.”

“God, don’t do that. You’re going to make me go on Santa’s naughty list tonight.”

“This heart belongs to you, and only you. And I’d hope you want to keep it for a very, very long time.”

“What matters isn’t the place, but the person you’re with at that place. So this is to say, being with you is enough for me. So long as you are there, then all is well.”

“If you don’t wanna spend the night in a empty house, you could always come over to mine.” 

"Hey, i think i can fit over here in this corner." "What are you, a plant?" "Maybe. you shine on me every day, after all."

“I don’t know what the future holds. all i know is that i hope you’re in it. “

“Annoying you is what I’m best at.”

“You get to curl up in my lap, and I get to watch a cinematic masterpiece in peace and quiet. i think this is a pretty sweet deal.”

“This is your home, just as it is mine.”

“That was your master plan? Really?” “No, my master plan was having no plan actually.”

“When life gives you lemons, squirt the juice into your enemies’ eyes and watch them whimper.”

“Maybe i'm too late to be your first, but right now, i'm preparing myself to be your last.”

“Over everything, I choose you.”

“You’ve given me so many memories, I'd hate it if you become one”

“I hope you heal from the things you dont wanna talk about”

“I was gonna marry her…”

“Because you always been my ticket home…”

“Have you ever gone stargazing?” “yeah, i’ve seen your eyes a few times.”

"Oh God- why are you half-naked?" "nothing you haven't seen before, love" "it's freezing, go put on a shirt-" "Nah, you can warm me up." 

“You never have to fear that you’re losing me.”

“Aw, you brought out the smile.” “Which smile?” “The one reserved for the people you love.” “How could you even tell?” “Because that’s how you smile at me.”

“No, you’re not allowed to smile at me like that.”

“This is not some predestined soulmate shit or fate or whatever. I love you all on my own. Because you’re awesome and because I want to.”

“You know, I prefer you naked, but that dress also looks breathtaking on you.”

“Believe in the me that believes in you”

“Work can wait. You need rest.”

“I got the recipe from your mom, i hope i did it justice.”

“I think i deserve a cuddle for letting you stick your icy little feet on me all night.”

“Ok…so, umm I made this playlist for our first month anniversary. I hope it’s not too bad!” “Omg, this is- I can’t believe it! I always wanted someone to make me a playlist!” 

“You already are a handful. Together, you guys are insufferable.”

“I’m right here.”

“Careful, or I will fall for you.” “You’ll be fine. I’ll buy you some knee pads.” “Knee pads but no helmet?” “If you’re falling for me, you’ve already taken a hit to the head.”

“Uh-oh.” “What’s wrong?” “That’s their ‘oh, you messed with the wrong bitch, bitch’ face.”

“You look like an idiot.” “You know, other people would say it’s nice to see me so happy. Or that I have a beautiful smile.”

“I’ve never seen you this happy before.”

“(Congrats.) You’re one of us now.”

“Please, never apologise for wanting to be loved.”

“Come on. I’ll show you how to dance”

"Are you still mad at me? I mean, it's okay if you are. I'm mad at myself, too."

"Put your head on my lap and sleep a little."

 “I don’t want to go to bed angry…can we please talk about this?” 

“Your cheeks are really soft.” “Stop squishing them!”

“You didn’t have to do anything…” “But i wanted to.”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🩸🩸🩸🩸

⚡⚡⚡⚡

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺🐕‍🦺

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

LOVE YOUR WRITING

THANK YOU!!!!

12 for 🩸:

---

Eddie can’t breathe.

He feels like he used to before he’d have a big, catastrophic panic attack. Like the world is spinning too fast around him and he’s about to overheat to a critical boiling point. 

“What does this mean, Eddie?” Maddie demands. “What is my brother doing?”

Eddie can’t move.

How does he know? How did he figure it out? Eddie was careful. He was so careful.

“Eddie?”

---

12 for ⚡:

---

Buck nods. “Okay. Right.”

Eddie smiles encouragingly, glad Buck can at least be plied with logic. If he won’t listen to Eddie, at least he’ll listen to Hen.

“So we just need to find somewhere that can accommodate the people first,” Bobby says. “And we have a solution for the food if all else fails.”

“We need to find it in three days,” Buck says. “Two, really.”

“Well, then let’s stop panicking and figure it out,” Hen instructs.

Buck nods compliantly. 

What the hell?

---

18 for 🧟:

---

They did…

Maddie twists to face Chris, wincing at the pain in her ribs. 

“Chris,” she says. “I totally get why you’re mad and upset. When my brother was your age, he got bit by a really big, scary dog and felt the exact same way you did.”

“A dog?” Chris sniffs. 

“Yep! It was like a husky crossed with something, and it was sort of crazy. Our neighbors bought it from a farm,” Maddie continues. “It was always barking. My dad hated it.”

Eddie would hate it, too. Though, he is a little confused where this is going. 

“The dog bit Evan,” Maddie continues. “It hopped the fence when we were walking to school. He was so mad, just like you are right now.”

“That’s scary,” Chris says. 

“It was,” Maddie agrees. “But you know what I told Evan?”

“What?” Chris asks. 

“I told him I felt bad for the dog,” Maddie explains. “Because it didn’t have anyone properly taking care of it and making it feel safe. Just like those lions. They used to live on a preserve where people made sure they were fed and healthy. Now their protectors are gone.”

---

18 for 🚨:

---

Buck takes a deep breath. He can do that. He thinks he can keep doing that. 

“Thank you, Bobby,” he says. “I really appreciate it. Uh, appreciate you, I mean.”

Bobby smiles at him. Kind and warm and full of understanding. 

“Anytime.”

v.

Chris comes home mid-summer. 

Eddie feels like a dislocated limb that’s been reset. His son is home. Things are right again. He wonders now, if the years of his twenties spent bouncing around, listless, were a result of that estrangement. Like despite his obliviousness, a part of him still knew and lacked and needed his child. It hurts his brain and his chest just to think about it. 

Chris seems happy to be home, too. Like Buck said, he never thought he was being abandoned or passed on. He missed them, and he wanted to be back, and some days he complained and gave Karen grief, but overall, he trusted they’d bring him home as soon as they could. 

Chim stays longer than Hen. Eddie is a little unsure of why. Yes, he doesn’t have little kids to get home to. But he talks all the time about how much he misses Maddie. Eddie isn’t sure why he doesn’t just go home when Hen does. At any rate, it takes him nearly a month after Hen leaves to finally feel safe enough to head back and be with his very pregnant girlfriend.

As summer comes to an end, wildfires break out across the country. Namely, Texas.

---

39 for 💐:

---

“I think I'd prefer doing anything with you than competing in classes.”

“Really?” May asks, voice a little breathy. An effect she didn’t intend for. “Because you’re pretty good at that.”

“What can I say?” April shrugs. “I was inspired.

May feels a sort of anticipation she’s never experienced before. Like something is going to happen and she doesn’t quite know what, but regardless, she’s desperate for it. Like the moment at the end of a drumroll, right before the big reveal. There’s a delicious sort of tension. One she can’t say she’s experienced before. With Darius, with every other guy she’s ever been out with, it felt like following a script. Everything felt like choreographed steps. This isn't that. This is like a story that she can’t put down. 

Maybe she’s just tipsy. Maybe she’s overreacting. Maybe Buck and Hen got her overexcited. Maybe she shouldn’t read into this at all.

Or maybe it’s a pretty big sign. 

Maybe May should let this anticipation guide her, just for right now, and see what happens. 

“I, uh…” May struggles to know what to say. She steps closer to April. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these past few days.”

April nods, eyes sweeping over May’s face. She’s about two inches shorter than May, but stands with a sort of confidence that makes her seem tall.

“Maybe you should think a little bit less,” she whispers. Her eyes land on May’s lips.

Oh.

Well, sure. Okay. 

May’s brain can shut up for a second.

April closes the remaining distance between them, stands on her toes a little, and tilts her head up to kiss May. May thinks she knows what to expect, but she’s wrong. She thinks, lips are lips. It’s not true.

---

39 for ➰:

---

Buck wakes up at eight in the morning, right on the dot. It’s a small thing to notice, but he does. There’s a digital clock on the nightstand beside the big, king-sized hotel room bed, and the time is staring him in the face when he opens his eyes. Bold, square red letters. 8:00. 

Is it a little sad to say he congratulates himself on sleeping in?

As a teenager, and early in his twenties, Buck would have no problem letting the morning breeze by in a hazy sleep. He’d struggled, joining the SEALS, with the early wake up calls. Hated it. Hated waking up for something he didn’t like. Firefighting had sharpened him. Instead of being forced to wake up for something he was ill suited for, he chose to rise early for something he loved. And so his body retrained itself. He found it hard to make it to seven most days now. Even harder to stay lazy in bed once he was awake. 

Today, though? Today Buck has a reason to linger. 

He rolls over in bed, away from the bright red digital clock face, to where Eddie is still sleeping, arm slung over Buck’s waist. Facing him, Buck presses a kiss to his forehead. Eddie’s eyes flutter open. Two pools of sun-melted gold. 

“Good morning,” Buck whispers.

Eddie smiles. “Good morning, handsome.”

Buck feels his cheeks warm a little. That never gets old. How does that never get old? It’s like he’s hearing it for the very first time. 

“How did you sleep?” Buck asks. 

He’s keeping his voice low. They got adjoining hotel rooms for this mini-vacation they took up to Morro Bay. Christopher is still asleep on the other side of the connecting doors. 

Eddie blinks, like the question throws him for a loop. Then, his expression rights itself. 

“Good,” he answers. “Good. I always sleep well beside you. You know that.”

---

78 for 🦮:

---

He feels like the trust Eddie has put in him, in less than two years of knowing each other, has changed him. Fundamentally, it has changed him. 

“You don’t need to say anything. Just know that I trust you, and I know you handled today as best you could.” 

Buck exhales a bit shakily. 

“This whole time I haven’t missed you as much as I do right now,” Buck says. “I really wish you were here.”

“Me too.”  Eddie says gently. 

“Thank you.”

“For what?” 

“For everything, Eddie.”

“You’re the one doing everything for me. And my kid. Who, once again, almost murdered your dog.”

“Okay, well I don’t think she was going to die. I think I was just panicking.”

“Still.” 

Buck smiles crookedly. 

“Yeah, well… You know I’d do anything for both of you. Impending criminal poisoning charges aside.”

“I know. I do know that.” 

That night, Buck finds himself a little teary after he and Eddie hang up. Living in lockdown with Chris and Cranberry, adjusting to the new routine, might be getting easier. Apart from today, that is. But not seeing Eddie? Time doesn’t make that easier at all. 

x.

Cranberry heals just fine. In under a week, she’s back to her regular self. She bounces back quicker than Christopher, actually, whose guilt keeps him hesitant around her for days and days after the Tylenol incident. Buck has to encourage him tons. Once Cranberry is feeling fully better, her usual energy and affection help, too. It takes time, but they manage to put the whole thing behind them. 

They get Cranberry’s Intermediate Trick Dog title. Making her Tweed River’s Vodka Cranberry TKI. Basically a Master’s degree, if you ask Buck. He’s working on the next level - Advanced. Gotta get his girl her PhD. Eddie says he’s ridiculous for calling it that. Hen, in med school, says it’s insulting. Buck’s definitely not planning on stopping showering Cranberry with accolades any time soon. 

It’s summer. The heat is sweltering most of the day and it’s hard to train outside or even take Cranberry on decent walks if it’s not night or early morning. Training the more advanced tricks is coming along. Just slower. Which is how Buck finds himself outside before seven in the morning, working on position commands from a distance. Christopher neglected to join him in favor of sleep. Typical not-quite-preteen. 

It’s morning. It’s quiet. It’s relatively mild out. Buck feels at peace, working with his best girl. 

And then his phone rings. 

This is weird for the time. The fact that it’s not a workday. The fact that no text preceded it. Buck’s first thought is to worry that something must have happened to Maddie and her baby. Or that someone has Covid. Either way, he’s assuming he’s getting a call from the hospital. 

When he checks the caller ID, he sees it’s Eddie. Which is actually not comforting, because Eddie FaceTimes him. He always FaceTimes him. And not usually at this time of day. 

“Eddie?” Buck answers the call a little frantically. Okay, a lot frantically, clearly, because Cranberry races over to check on him. “What’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing’s wrong?” 

“Nothing? Then why are you calling me at quarter to seven in the morning on a Sunday?”

Eddie chuckles. “Well, you’re awake, aren’t you?”

“Yes, obviously.”

---

78 for 🔼:

---

“But, please. You don’t have to go out of your way to be nice to me. You don’t have to ask how I am. It’s really okay if you hate me.”

He gawks at her.

“Shannon, I-I don’t hate you!”

She gives him a dubious look.

“Really!” He protests. “First of all, I’m pretty bad at hating people. There’s, like, one person I really hate, and he’s dead anyway.”

Shannon remembers, suddenly, visiting Eddie in the hospital after his other friend had been stabbed. The person who had done it was Buck’s brother-in-law. His sister’s husband. Who she was trying to make her ex-husband. 

Right.

He has real villains to hate. Even dead ones. 

“Second of all!” Buck continues. “I don’t even know you!”

“You don’t,” she agrees quietly. 

“Third! Uh, third of all… You’re pretty important to some people I care about, so… Yeah.” Buck sighs. “I don’t know. I might not get your choices. But Eddie has made it pretty clear it’s not all your fault. It’s not my business, anyway.”

No. It isn’t. And yet, here he is anyway. The only person really talking to her right now, even if just in a physiotherapist’s waiting room. 

“Sorry,” she mutters. “I shouldn’t have assumed how you feel.”

“No,” he shrugs. “It’s fair. Honestly? When Eddie first said you weren’t around? I did judge you. But that’s a lot to do with my own shit, too.”

She tilts her head, curious.

“Your own shit?”

She shouldn’t ask. She really shouldn’t. And he shouldn’t answer. 

But he does.

“Yeah, my relationship with my parents is more or less nonexistent,” Buck explains. “They didn’t even come to visit when a fire engine fell on me. Called my sister to wish me well.” 

“I’m sorry,” Shannon says. “That doesn’t sound easy.”

He shrugs. Like it is what it is. Like it’s just life, and not their failure. God. She hopes when Chris is his age, he never feels that way about his relationship with her. No matter what state it’s in, she hopes he knows. She loves her son more than anything, even if she’s not always good at loving him.

“I don’t hate you,” Buck says again. “I swear.”

“Okay,” she says. Her eyes start to sting. “Thanks.”

Fuck.

It shouldn’t matter what this guy thinks of her. She doesn’t know him, either. He’s Eddie’s friend, not hers. But maybe there’s something to be said about the fact that Christopher thinks he hung the moon. Maybe there’s wisdom in the goodness she senses from him. Maybe caring isn’t so stupid. 

The threat of tears in her eyes becomes a reality. Face hot with embarrassment, Shannon wipes her eyes. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “I’m totally freaking out on you.”

“That’s okay,” he says. “Don’t worry about it, really.”

[andhumanslovedstories]

Hello! I love your blog very much. I too am a second degree nurse. I just graduated from an ABSN program and I'm struggling to get my foot in the door anywhere despite good grades + honor society membership + in state license already secured. I live in NYC and the nursing shortage here is CRAZY but for some reason no one wants to talk to me. Would you recommend home health nursing for someone in my situation? I did my preceptorship in the ED and that's 100% where I belong, but the bills are really piling up and I have no prospects. How long did you do home health before you went bedside? Thank you for any advice you have!

(Disclaimer though for all this, I'm across the country from you and have no idea the landscape of nursing jobs in NYC.)

I worked in home health for 18 months. If my goal was to get to the hospital as quick as possible, I didn't need to be there that long. I wasn't in any particular rush to move on. Plenty of people worked less than that and got hired at a hospital, I think something like a year was the average. I know the different between sending out my new grad resume and sending out my home health nurse resume was night and day. As in: literally anyone wanted to interview me.

I'd encourage you to at least apply and see if you can interview. You get to interview the company right back, and that'll let you know the kinds of work they expect from you. There are two main types of home health: the kind where you visit a lot of patients in a day and the kind where you're with one patient for the entire shift. The first kind is doing stuff like dressing changes, medication management, or periodic assessment. The second kind is more like general caregiving with nursing related requirements. I mostly did the second one, and worked night shift. So I fed a patient dinner, I gave them a bath, I got them dressed for bed, then tucked them in and stuck around until morning for their needs in the night. But within that was trach management, seizures, G tubes, medications, central lines, ongoing assessment, all that stuff that got this person nursing hours. I'm not gonna lie--it was often very very boring. I read a lot of books.

(btw west coast disclaimer again, but if you're willing to work nights, you'll get hired more easily. Everyone everywhere in the world doesn't have enough night shift coverage. also, oops! this got long and became an essay on home health!)

For downsides, in home health you can get limited training and orientation before you're alone, responsible for a patient. And then it's all on you. I had some gut-dropping moments early on where I encountered something I didn't know how to handle and didn't know how urgent it was. There's supposed someone you can call at all times, but multiple times when I did call, no one picked up. It can be super stressful and frankly dangerous as an inexperienced nurse. Luckily, many times you have the patient's family as a resource. It's likely they've been doing this years longer than you have. Though it's worst thing in the world when you wake someone up at 3 am because you're unsure and concerned, and then have that person explain in a really supportive tone of voice that these frequent, very brief seizures were probably just hiccups. Hypothetically speaking.

You can get too entwined with the patient and family's lives. It's hard to call out sick because you know no one can cover you. It's easy to cross emotional boundaries. Imagine spending 40 hours a week with someone and their family. They'll occupy a spot in your brain.

And I don't think it's a great place for a new nurse to stay for years and years, just for like professional development reasons. You won't get exposure to a variety of patients (unless you work that other type of home health in which case enjoy seeing eight different patients a day, hope traffic doesn't suck), so it's easy to forget stuff you just learned. I never had to think about transfusion reactions until I started at the hospital and shit now it's relevant all the time. I had to completely relearn how to hang an IV piggyback. Plus, since you work alone, you don't get the chance to see how other nurses work. It's hard to figure out a profession when you practice in complete isolation. It's easy to learn bad habits and have no one ever correct you.

But there's a lot I like about home health. You really do have a perspective on patients and patient care that is unique to home health and long-term care. In the hospital, you don't always get that long-term perspective. If you work with someone for a while, you can track how they progress or decline. Why do some clients stay at home for years and others keep going back to the hospital? What's different about their conditions and cares? You see all the work it can take to keep them steady. That's perspective that easy to lose. It helps you put the patient on a timeline that extends beyond the hospital. If you click with a patient and/or family and work with them for a while, it can be very satisfying working with them because you see so clearly the impact you're having.

Also! I read so many fucking books! I listened to so many podcasts (played so so softly). I knitted and learned sudoku and practiced yoga, looked up vacation spots, put in my grocery orders, and organized my playlists. I also could research and research and research. I had time to look up everything about every condition my patient had, and once I felt more comfortable with those, I moved on to looking up whatever other disease process and patient experience seemed interesting. I'd make myself a little curriculum and, after my patient was tucked in, and be like "tonight's class is vlogs about having a trach."

There were plenty of shifts where I bustled all fuckin night, and sometimes those shifts seemed to be in one endless hellish row, but often I had a lot of time to myself that I could spend however I wanted, as long as I was still in the room with the patient, able to meaningfully hear and see them, and keeping up with the night routine. I fucked around a lot and got paid for it because the job is to be available when needed, and you're not always needed. (I'm not saying slack off! I'm just saying even colicky babies sleep peacefully now and then.)

Anyway jesus christ that got away from me, but like please know that I was in your exact place, and I know how much it sucks and how crazy it makes you feel because I THOUGHT WE WERE SHORT ON NURSES DON'T ANY OF YOU FUCKERS NEED A NURSE, and know that all the other job hunts after this should and will be easier than this.

[korpuskristae]

Jasmine and Rose - A Sensory Shock That Jolts My Spirits

Warnings: Child abuse, alcohol abuse, usage of the F slur.

Pairing: Severus Snape x Female reader, reader uses She/Her pronouns

Word Count: 1000+

Summary: A peak into the enigmatic Potions Professors past, aka, I didn't expect this fanfic to get this far so I'm stalling and this is filler, present day Sev will be back next, NEXT, chapter.

Tag List: @likoplays (If you want to be tagged in the next chapter let me know!)

Song Choice: Nettie and Anesthesia are such Sev-coded songs, Life Is Killing Me is just very Sev overall if I'm being honest. (Context for non Type O fans: Nettie is about the frontman's mother) I'd like to think he was a mama's boy, as you can see I tried to lean into that a little. For those curious, the Latin roughly translates to: "I invoke he power of the Cross. My Mother alone could move the One Great God."

Part 1 Part 2

AN: I return! With a VERY late chapter, sorry xoxoxo, this chapter isn't a happy one either. Expect major spelling errors and mistakes, I seriously got so tired of looking at this so I just said fuck it and posted it, it feels very empty and like too much info IMO but it sets up the next chapter so just trust me.

̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿ ☆ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿ ☆ ‿̩͙‿

Read on AO3

Unbeknownst to many, simply because he was such a private person, Severus had always been very close with his mother. Eileen Snape is… was… the only kind Snape in the whole family tree, considering she married into the family, it made sense. Eileen originally married his father, Tobias Snape, out of love, she was the type of person who found the good in everybody, even, unfortunately, his father at one point, though she horrendously misjudged his… nature.

Severus always thought it foolish of her, to even think of that man, his… father, as remotely good, even on a good day, seemed impossible for Severus. Tobias Snape did not have a single loving bone in his body, if he did, it's safe to say Severus would’ve been an entirely different person.

It wasn’t always so tense between Eileen and Tobias, when his father and mother were wed, the Snape family outwardly portrayed the perfect family, a hardworking husband, and a doting equally as hardworking wife, that was, until Severus was born.

His father was nothing special, he was a tall, lanky, pale, English muggle who worked a plethora of jobs at any given moment. He never stayed anywhere too long mostly because he’d end up coming to work hungover or drunk more often than not leading to a confrontation between him and whoever his current boss was. He was a notoriously stoic man who could go the entire day without giving so much as a glance to either Severus or Eileen until he got his hands on a bottle of beer. Later on in life, his alcohol dependence would prove to be his final nail in the coffin, just a few months short of his mother’s death.

His mother, on the other hand, was born into the highly esteemed House of Prince. Much like the noble House of Black, the Prince House was a highly revered, and highly feared, house of powerful pureblooded witches and wizards. Unlike many patriarchal wizarding families, the Prince family was headed by the less-than-polite, Catherine Prince, Eileen’s mother. Being an only child, Eileen was next in line to head the Prince House but upon hearing her daughter had married and fallen in love with a muggle man, Catherine disowned Eileen for being a “blood traitor” and “tainting” their family line.

Before their wedding, Eileen and Tobias lived in his parent's home, after their very small intimate wedding, the two moved into Spinner’s End in Cokeworth, England, just a few short months later, Severus was conceived and born on January 9th, 1960. Despite its less-than-favorable conditions, drab, rainy, cobblestoned England would serve to be their residence, its looming Victorian architecture only adding to the oppressiveness and overbearing weight of the country as a whole. The ghosts of a not-so-distant past served as a grim backdrop for the tense times they lived in.

For the first year of his life, Severus was rather sickly and pale, two traits that regrettably followed him through his childhood and into adulthood, albeit, to a lesser extreme. He was a rather frail child resulting in him often sitting and playing with his mother rather than venturing into the outside world simply because it caused too much strain on his already strained body. 

Due to brain damage he sustained from one of the many beatings from his father, his development was stunted and many important milestones such as his first laugh, his first steps, and even his first words happened at much later times than they would for a seemingly healthy baby. Eileen wasn’t spared from Tobias’s wrath either, while her son bared the brunt of her husband’s aggression, she too sustained a multitude of bruises and broken bones at his hands.

Despite their harsh reality, Eileen never broke in front of her son, she taught Severus to never accept a life he didn’t deserve, to keep his head up, he was a Prince after all. Her confidence, born of a life of privilege at a young age was something even Tobias had a hard time breaking. 

As he grew older, Severus never grew out of his introverted tendencies. His constant ailments and aversion to words were a point of conflict in the Snape household. Growing up, Severus was regularly berated for being too “weak” and acting like a “pansy” due to his mother’s quote-unquote “incessant coddling”. Coupled with the fact that he had grown out his hair and wore his mother’s clothing since his father’s hung off his lanky body, Severus was more often than not, subjected to harsh manual labor along with numerous beatings for whatever unforgivable crime his father felt he committed that day. In his father’s words, “He wasn’t going to raise a faggot”, how funny that sentence was to look back upon...

As a result of his father’s explosive temper and general aloof behavior, he and his mother grew extremely close. A certified social recluse even at a young age, Eileen was the only person he allowed into his little world. Once her son started displaying signs of having magical abilities, she broke out her old textbooks and started teaching him basic wandless spells in secret while Tobias was away working.

 His father detested magic with every fiber of his being, he didn’t like much of anything but magic for some reason seemed to entirely derail his behavior. So much so, that he snapped Eileen’s wand in a fit of rage not long after they were married.

The day Severus got his Hogwarts letter, Eileen was ecstatic, catching his father in a good mood, she showed him the letter proclaiming their son was a wizard and would be attending the best magical school in the world. Grossly hungover, Tobias didn’t fully register her words as she asked to take Severus to London, waving them off angrily, Eileen practically skipped out of the house with her son in tow.

The two spent the day in Diagon Alley, living what felt like a normal life for the first time. Splurging what little money she had on her son, Eileen bought him brand new robes and a wand, even going so far as to buy him ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour before heading off to the used bookstores. It’s this day that Severus believes was his happiest memory, rather,  it was one of his only happy memories from his childhood, the one memory he faithfully used to conjure his Patronus.

[rochelle-echidna]

@micheladee tagged me in the "post a couple paragraphs of your WIP" share-a-thon, so figured I'd go through my Word docs and see what I could find - thank you so much for the tag, Michela :)

Truth be told, if y'all will allow me to vent a bit first... it's been a bit of a shitter these last couple years, especially wrt getting any sort of writing done. Never mind with fics (of which I feel awful I've barely started anything new, even the WIP below is from last year) - but I've also been trying to finally write a novel of my own after realising I really, really want to... and the words just aren't coming. Whether it's because of fear of ridicule, fear of failure, fear of not being good enough, fear of financial stresses, fear of whatever... it's been really fucking rough since my spouse and I moved cross-country, and I've def been feeling ashamed at my lack of creative output :(

On the bright side, I'm getting some help with therapy and I'm doing a couple workshops to get me back into the swing of being creative so that I can tackle the work-life balance and not feel like the entirety of my (and my spouse's) survival rests squarely on my shoulders. Whether that means I'll be able to post any new work soon is up for debate, but honestly just taking these baby steps is better than nothing, so I'll take what I can get (and my body + mind can give).

And I know there's no "admission fee" to partake in fandom, but I still feel I'd be remiss if I didn't offer a huge apology for not positing fics recently, and especially for not commenting on fics y'all have made in these last several months - please believe me when I say I see y'all's work and it's great and makes me feel so many necessary things, even if I'm not able to type the words on AO3 atm.

Anyhow, just wanted to share an update with y'all and let you know I'm still here, still alive... just taking it one day at a time for now in order to keep my sanity strong!

Enjoy this little snippet of a WIP below, and I tag whoever so chooses to participate in this game - even if I'm quiet, I love seeing everything you lovely people write :D

When he was thrust back to reality in his own body, there was the usual disorientation that was to be expected of someone summoned through the dark arts. After all, if the infamous Thief King from 3,000 years ago had existed as a separate being before, there was no reason Malik’s other half couldn’t, too. Except… Ryou Bakura hadn’t exactly planned for this extra passenger to crawl his way back from the shadows alongside the former spirit. And what “Malik’s other half” – the phrase enough to make said individual gag – definitely hadn’t expected was for such confusion to be tainted by a profound sadness… one that had permeated his entire being for the last six months. Or however long it had been. Malik had gotten what he’d wanted, Ryou had gotten what he wanted, the Thief King had kind of gotten what he wanted – and all that “Malik’s other half” had gotten was a sense of displacement, dysmorphia and disdain. “You know… he’s welcome to stay here, Malik.” “You weren’t conscious during that damned duel fifteen years ago, host. Just be glad you weren’t privy to his cruelty firsthand.” “He’s right, Ryou. You’ve done enough already. There’s no need to put yourself in more danger.” “But there’s not much harm he can do now. I mean—" “I can hear you all.” Three pairs of eyes had greeted him when he’d first turned over on a – soft – bed. His hands had been bound, and he’d growled and snarled so much that he’d made Malik and the Thief King back up – but not the white-haired man in-between them. “You probably have lots of questions right now. And…” The blush that formed on the man’s cheeks had sent a – strange – shiver down his spine, warming his bound wrists. “I’m sorry I don’t have many answers.” He had merely hmphed at that, avoiding eye contact with his “main personality” and the thief who’d dared face him. Instead, he focused on the wide eyes of the man who must have been called— “Ryou… it’s no use. We need to send him back before he does some real damage again.” “Snap out of it, landlord. Just look at how he’s staring at you.” But the man – Ryou – had just tilted his head and let loose a very small smile. “What’s your name?”

[just-some-castaways]

The Girl in My Head

Author: Nate

- So there's this girl, who lives in my head. I didn't ask for her, and she's not perfect or seductive or anything along those lines. Truth be told, she's far more akin to a close friend than some weird craving for female companionship.

It's funny, the way I chose to phrase that first line: "There's this girl, who lives in my head." Because I think that suggests that she's imaginary, and exists only in a perfect little dreamland.

That's simply not the case. Yes, I have worlds in my head. No, they're not perfect, more often than not they're far from it. Yes, my mind is what most people would call "hopelessly broken." I get that, I understand that to most people, the line between imaginary and reality is easily definable, and straightforward to navigate. Well, for me it's not.

So for the sake of stepping into someone else's shoes for a moment or two, just amuse me and imagine this girl is a part of the physical world, as tangible as you or I. (Said the boy from behind a screen)

This girl is sweet, and funny, and likes vanilla Chai-lattes with skim milk and a shot of espresso. She has a passion for digital art and loves to draw people, especially people she's met. Some of her favorite pass times are cross-country running, hiking, traveling, making and admiring art, and reading auto-biographies.

She's grew up in Italy before moving to Canada with her parents when she was 10. A couple times a year, she flies back to her home town to visit her extended family and friends. I think she gets homesick a lot, but she's never openly said so as far as I'm aware.

I don't remember how we met, or when, but we get along really well. She's one of those people who just makes you feel comfortable and safe, purely by being around her. Her sense of humor is a somewhat lacking, (she greatly dislikes puns which is a shame, cause I think they're pretty punny).

At one point, I had a crush on her that lasted several months. But we're not particularly complimentary of each other's traits so it died out a while ago. Now we're just close friends, content to look elsewhere for that "special someone." We've spent a lot of time just hiking in the woods, appreciating nature in silent awe, and occasionally passing back and forth obscure fun facts or talking about life.

Now that you know a bit more about her, and I've told you about various experiences we've shared, I'd like to point out that she's "completely imaginary," at least by most people's standards.

Let me tell you one more thing about this girl. She's a part of me. She embodies different aspects of myself, and my past. She's a fragment of me I couldn't hold in place, and as a result she grew into her own person. So yes, she is technically imaginary, but she's also real. I'm real, so why should you have a right to say that part of me that broke off isn't? That she can't exist simply because you can't see or talk to her, and she doesn't have a physical form.

When your friends aren't around by someone asks you what option they're prefer, or what their response might be to a certain opinion, you instinctively know at least close to what they might say right? Well who's to say your friends aren't just imaginary, because I can't see them right now can I? And yet you know things about them that you don't even have to think about to call to mind.

The girl in my head is real, because I'm real. Please don't invalidate those with such deep trauma that they break into fragments and can't be put back together. Try to respect each part of them as valid and worthy of respect. Show them the same kindness you'd show to anyone else who still has their mind in one piece.

-

Hello, my name is Nathanael, and I am part of the Castaways system. Thank you for reading my rambles, and please remember that just because you don't understand something, doesn't make it not true. Especially when it comes to walking in someone else's shoes.

[dirtanddistance]

Running and Identity: or, Coming Out to Your Road Runner Family as a Trail Runner (TW: eating disorder)

From the outside, running looks like a fairly homogenous pastime. It's not until you really get into things that you realize that 'running' means a number of things to different people, and what your running life looks like can change dramatically over its lifespan.

Going home to be with my family for the holidays put this into stark relief for me. I started my running career (?) as a very humble road runner. I had no speed to speak of, and would ensure that remained the case for years (thanks, anorexia) before realizing that maybe I could run some zippy times after all. Growing up in Florida, the opportunities to participate in 'trail running' are few and far between, and those few times contain a cumulative zero feet of vert. Running on a trail back home felt like a bad reprise of a cross country meet (in fact, my first ultra included sections of the old high school district meet route). And all of this was just fine with me. I had a mom who had gotten me into running who was an avid PR seeking machine who I've had to talk off a cliff when her times slowly stopped getting faster as time went on, and has offhandedly told me after a track meet that I just 'didn't look like I was trying that hard' at the end of my 1600m PR. Running on flat, fast courses and always reaching for a faster time was the standard; even if you never competed against anyone else, the clock was there to prove your progress or lack thereof. It didn't occur to me to question any of it. It would take years of experience and months marinating in a more active ultra community to realize that it didn't matter that my second 50k was over an hour slower than my first, not for the least reason because the terrain profile was completely different. This was the running world that I, my brother, and my husband (important side characters in my running saga) inherited.

With that background, you might imagine that morphing into a trail runner was quite the transformation. While it wasn't fully intentional, I wanted to run another ultra (see https://www.tumblr.com/dirtanddistance/727596212894793728/squamish50-race-review?source=share), and where I'd moved (British Columbia), that meant your race was gonna be on some actual trails, with some actual mountains thrown in for interest. Never mind the fact that my first trail run ended with me in actual tears at how hard running uphill was, I was determined to do it, ego about my pace be damned. I quickly learned that doing a trail race entailed less running than road racing, and, in my amateur case, significantly less pace consciousness. It was time consuming, and exhausting... and more liberating than I ever imagined going for a run could be. It reminded me of a conversation I had when I ran into an old (and very fast) track teammate in the local Target after we'd graduated, and he said he was savoring running as many ten minute miles as he wanted. I'd grinned and agreed - there was a joy and freedom in not having to be fast anymore. Trail running is that feeling, multiplied by a thousand.

Imagine trying to explain the ocean to someone who had never seen it before - they know that oceans exist, but they've never even seen a picture of one before. That is what trying to explain an alpine trail race to a Florida road racer who hasn't run much anywhere else is like. The responses you get are the spectrum you'd imagine. There are some who hear your description and find it completely captivating. Your mom, nursing a knee injury and accepting that her fastest times might be behind her, asks you if you don't have to worry about how fast you run at those races. You tell her no, you don't, because none of them are the same, you can't compare 50k to 50k in a lot of cases, and even then, to you they're so challenging that completing them feels like enough of an accomplishment. She smiles and says idly, 'that sounds nice, not thinking about how fast you're going'. You agree, realizing that life has enough pressures and arbitrary benchmarks and you don't need to be adding to them in your off time.

Others hear about it and it sounds like a foreign religion. Interesting perhaps, but not for them. For good reason; if trails aren't convenient for you, or you are starting to get really fast at road races, there's joy and senses of accomplishment to harvest in those fields. You can run slow up a hill later, after you've assured yourself that you can actually run a 20 minute 5k, or qualify for Boston (or not). Not everyone has that potential in them, but you'll never know if you don't try. I think about the road marathon I signed up for with my brother, wedged between this season's big trail races, and both wince at the though of pushing myself to run 'fast' and grin at the chance to get back to where this crazy journey started - can I run that far? And once I can, can I do it faster? Trail running is really just an extension of those questions - can I run THAT far? Can I run UP that far? Inside any runner, road or trail, is a quiet voice which asks them to see what they have in them.

Transitioning over to trail runs from road racing felt like a rebellion against the neurotic constraints of the sport I have come to love, but in writing this, I've come to the conclusion that it's actually just a transmutation of the same drive that was there from the start. The 17 year old blasting Florence + The Machine on her iPod under the canopy tent at the track meet before a second to last place finish at the 3200m is the 21 year old bumping FloRida in the car to the 5k, where she'd PR in the 5k and 50k in the same week, is the 30 year old zoning out to The 1975 on local trails and having nightmares about Matty Healy before every trail race that year, and all of them are just a manifestation of summoning the courage to, in the words of my sleep paralysis demon himself, 'give yourself a try'.

[lovequinn]

i cannot break my tradition so here is the annual mushy new years eve post

(first a quick sidebar: i started doing these end of year posts in 2018 i think? i tried to go back today and find all the ones i'd written previously and it just really sank in how different everything is, both internally and externally. obviously i was very aware of that to a degree already, but actually reading the way i spoke about myself and my life is so out-of-body. i was 20 when i wrote one of these for the first time; i'd just dropped out of college, i was grasping on to anything and anyone that made me feel like i belonged or gave me any sort of direction. it's bittersweet to see, because i was trying so hard to be happy when i wasn't, and i wish i could go back and tell that person that it's gonna be fine. i like making these posts because i like to think it's a way of writing to that version of myself and saying hey...here's how we're doing now.)

2023 was, personally, the best year of my life.

this was the year i woke up one morning and said fuck it, i'm tired of not doing what i need to do to make myself happy. i'm tired of being scared to make the decisions i want to make. i'm tired of using "i'm still growing up and figuring out what i'm doing" (i wrote about this a lot in january here) as an excuse to not take the leap and figure it out on my terms.

this was the year that i embraced myself and my identity fully for the first time, even if it's something still ever-changing. it took me until 2022 to acknowledge and accept that i wasn't a cis woman, but i still clung to making myself okay with she/her pronouns in addition to my preferred they/them and avoiding using the word "trans" at all costs. 2023 is the year i started to wear the trans label with pride and i slowly, surely, shook away the parts of me that were afraid of change. i'm still working on that daunting concept of letting other people have insight into the most vulnerable parts of who you are, and i feel like i always will be, but i am millions of miles ahead of where i was twelve months ago when it comes to being confident about what i want and what i need in that respect.

a lot of that is due to the people i surrounded myself with this year. i have had the immense privilege of forming friendships with some of my heroes, and conversely, of watching some longtime friends become heroes. the people that i hold closest to me at the end of 2023 are people who i got to watch advocate for themselves and for others all year long, be that through picket lines, through strength in their personal life, through layoffs, through championing for marginalized people in media, etc. i am so lucky to have the chance to learn from these people and how they live their lives every day. and i find myself lately waking up grateful that i feel cared for and loved by the people i've chosen, in ways i didn't know i could be.

2023 was the year that i connected with the things i love more than i've ever gotten to before. entirely gone is any lingering shame i had about enjoying media, fandoms, stories. getting excited about stuff is cool, actually, and life is short. i had a conversation with an actor i admire and adore so much who said that it's incredibly stupid to pretend to be inhuman and above having things that bring us joy, and i took that to heart. i got to do things like attend premieres and work on promotion for things i'm obsessed with, and i was unabashed about my love for what i choose to consume. this fall, one of the first people i saw after making a terrifying cross-country move was my idol growing up, who i'd crossed paths with a bunch already earlier in the year. that person told me how proud they were of me (and followed up later with a message repeating that) and in a way, that made my teenage self feel so, so proud of me too.

in that vein...this was the year that "i know i would be happy moving to LA, but that's a pipe dream for someday" quickly became closing my eyes, taking a breath, and making the leap. most of the process still feels like it was a blackout, honestly. out of nowhere i had suddenly packed my entire life into a car, left the only place i've been my entire life, and drove 41 hours on my own to an apartment i'd rented without seeing and a roommate i'd never met in person. it was the best decision i've ever made. something that had always felt out of place finally clicked into where it was supposed to be. i adopted a cat on impulse two weeks after moving and with that as the cherry on top...i just truly have spent the last several months finally feeling that wholehearted fulfillment other people talk about and that i never totally understood.

there's so, so much more i could write about, from trips to disneyland, to parties, to relationships. but this is getting so long already, so i'll just add some pictures below and leave it at: i am so thankful for 2023. i am so excited for 2024. let's see what it brings, good or bad.

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

2022 Creator’s Self-Love Extravaganza

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in 2022. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm, so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love!

@thelionshymnal dug this one up and while they didn't tag me, I felt the tag in my heart. Therefore, I pulled out the original rules with a little under 24 hours before the calendar flips over to a new year, I think I am safe in saying that my word count for the year is complete.

I did not write a lot this year! Comparatively, at least.* A mere 25,682 words have gone to publish. But it's also been a very disruptive year in that I quit my job of 5+ years, got rid of ALL of my stuff that couldn't fit into a tiny car, drove seven days cross country to a New Better Shinier Job (while writing a final paper), rented a 10 x 10 room above a garage for several months where my cat was very kind by not murdering me, dropped everything to sit at my dad's deathbed, went right back to work the following Monday, finished yet another graduate degree, went on a trip to Maine with friends, moved AGAIN to a much larger much more private space, and uhhh... signed up for yet another degree program. Because I have a problem. Clearly. Oh and I also broke a bone for the first time in my life! It's in my foot! I haven't gone out to do ANYTHING other than get groceries for the last two weeks and it sucks!

2022 has been a lot! More good than bad and overall improvement of everything, but a lot! And I've wanted to write. I've thought a lot about it in the moments before falling asleep! But any progress is still progress and my body comes first these days because in this house we practice self-care.

That being said, what I have put out, I've been immensely proud of. So, in no particular order and without further ado...

On the Event of the Annual Lilias Recruit Hazing Final Exam (ans, gen)

I wrote third person limited! For the first time! It was weird but also a fun to write something where the audience only has the interactions and body language to read.

2. where mended hearts meet (obiyuki, 🍋)

While I haven't been writing proper most of the year, I have been obsessing over @onedivinemisfit's camboy!obi au. It's been my personal problem, like, ever since she first introduced the concept for it and I've been screaming about it every chance that I get. Part of me much much wants to write the whole thing, but also acknowledged that I did not have the time. But also also I knew I was not going to be productive about anything at ALL until I wrote at least a little smutty smut for it. I mean, two consenting adults who are very accommodating of one anothers kinks and traumas? Sign me the fuck up, let's do this.

3. Drabble-Drabble 2022 Challenge (multiple fandoms, multiple pairings, all ratings)

Perhaps because I haven't had a chance to really focus on my writing this year, I wanted to do something uncomplicated. I remember loving drabbles back in my livejournal days. Just being absolutely laid out by 100 words precisely. But I'd never tried it myself so I wanted to give it a shot! I asked and y'all sent in around 30 prompts and I answered 26! It was a blast, highly recommend to anyone out there that wants to try their hand at it.

4. Seven Nights, Night 7 (Hakuouki, Yamachi, 🍋)

I had a moment when I went to see the timestamps of the chapters I worked on this year and it was literally just Night 7 of Seven Nights. It's split into three chapters, but it's 14k words just leading up to the final night, I don't even know what to say, y'all. Yamazaki is just real shy and writing two virgins was a lot harder than I thought (and I already thought it was going to be difficult!). I do really love it, though, they're adorable.

5. Stone Soup (Spy x Family, Yor & Yuri)

I would be remiss if I didn't include the final posted fic of the year (and my first foray into the sxf fandom!). Not only did I write a child's pov, I got to incorporate some real mean food feels into it. All together a real good time! XD

Okay! I've done it! I've said the nice things about me! Now I shall tag people, hmmm... @spoonyglitteraunt @sabraeal @claudeng80 @onedivinemisfit @infinitelystrangemachinex and anyone else who wants a go!

*Word count by year since 2016:

2016- 97,273 2017- 167,645 2018- 138,769 2019- 130,429 2020- 126,435 2021- 91,014 2022- 25,682

[countessofravenclaw]

39 for the drabble prompts <3

Baking a cake goes very wrong

"Luna, what are you doing?" Matteo walked into the mansions' kitchen after a video conference with his producers. They were trying to figure out the schedule for his next single release. Luna had come home from training during it and locked herself in the kitchen.

"Baking a cake." Luna turned towards him smiling, she was elbows deep in some kind of custard she was stirring in a bowl.

"Why?" Matteo raised an eyebrow at her. Monica and Miquel were on a week-long trip to Mexico, so he and Luna had been left alone in the mansion.

"Simon and Ambar are coming over," Luna looked at him like what she was doing would have been the most obvious thing in existence. "So, I thought I'd bake something to celebrate the engagement."

"They got engaged over two months ago," Matteo crossed his arms.

"That doesn't mean we still can't celebrate."

"So, it is going to be one big party until the wedding?" Matteo questioned amused, "What kind of cake is that even supposed to be?"

"A cheesecake," Luna said while pouring the custard into the mold she had on the table, "Those are magical. You just put it in the fridge and it holds its shape."

*

"Where's Ambar?" Luna asked Simon as she opened the mansion's door.

"She had to take a phone call." Simon explained as he walked inside. "It's our realtor."

Simon and Ambar had decided to buy a house and move before the wedding. So on top of the wedding planning, Ambar had also taken charge of that. It definitely went all over Luna's head how she was able to manage everything.

"So you finally found an agent?" Luna asked as she and Simon sat on the living room couch.

"Yeah, we did... actually we got THE one."

"Isla's helping you?" Matteo, who had been lounging on the couch, questioned. "How did you manage that? The number one most known thing about the Peridas is that you can not reach them."

"Well, Ambar didn't contact her," Simon shook his head, "She called Gastón."

"Ah," Matteo nodded, "Well, gotta use the connections when you have them. I am just surprised, I thought she'd had her hands full. But on the other hand, she is definitely one to overdo a favour, especially if Gastón is involved."

"Well, if it gets the job done," Simon shrugged, "I don't know anything about buying houses."

"Since, you always struggled even with the rent," Matteo laughed.

"Ambar went through the budget with me, but I don't remember it," Simon admitted.

"Why won't you just build a house?" Luna asked as she jumped back on the couch.

"And how would we do that?"

"Don't we all know a person with a fresh master's degree in engineering, with an architecture minor?" Matteo suggested.

"I am not sure if we wanna bother Gastón with that," Simon shook his head, "He isn't even back yet."

"He and Nina will back in note time, as soon as she graduates. Or I am personally kidnapping and stuffing them in a private plane." Matteo huffed.

"Simon!" Ambar dashed in at the second, "Guess what?"

"What?" Simon asked as Ambar sat next to him on the sofa.

"This time we really have it!" Ambar started showing pictures on her phone, "This is on little on the south side from the central. Build in 2015, but in really good condition. The master bedroom has an ensuite and joins a room that could be converted into an office. And there are enough rooms that you could have an extra room for music, while we'd be left with two additional bedrooms. And there is this inside yard."

Simon looked at the pictures while Ambar talked.

"What do you think? Because this could be a house, that we would maybe never need to move out of." Simon agreed with Ambar. The house seemed really cool... and Ambar really was right. This house had the potential for raising a family.

"I like it a lot," Simon nodded, "Are we able to go and have a look at it?"

"I asked Isla that, she is not even in the country right now," Ambar continued, "but she said that her assistant is free to show us. Tommorrow at 1 pm. The address was Saldan 2155."

"Well, there we go!" Simon declared, "We might have a house.. soon. Honestly, this has happened quite fast."

"Well, Isla really lives up to her reputation. You don't become world-renowned for nothing." Ambar laughed, "I am really jealous of Nina right now, that is her mother-in-law... not that there is anything wrong with your mother," she tapped Simon on the arm.

"Oh, I completely forgot!" Luna suddenly jumped up form the sofa, "I made a cake!"

"You did what now?" Ambar stared at Luna.

"I baked a cake," Luna staed, "Come on. Let me show you!"

"How did you let this happen?" Ambar looked at Matteo.

"Don't look at me," He said.

Matteo, Ambar and Simon walked into the kitchen, just in time to witness Luna standing on front of the kitchen counter, looking at some sort of gloopy mess.

"What happened?" Ambar stared. "Is that the cake?"

"I don't know," Luna keeps just looking at the pile on the counter, "I just removed the tin. This is a cheesecake, it was supposed to hold it's shape."

"Did you put it in the oven?" Simon asked.

"You need to do that?" Luna stared at Simon.

"The ones that are served at Dad's restaurant were like that, but I don't really know." Simon shook his head, "Otherwise you'd need a setting agent or something."

"I thought it was just going to magically hold its shape." Luna said, sticking her finger onto the mass and putting it into her mouth. "But it still tastes good."

[sunsetfell]

Heading West

As you go west, the features of the land become spread out. At least that's how it is when you start from my hometown in Denfield. You get to a quarry where the workers think nothing of driving an hour each day from home. Still, some, like Christine, don't like the drive at night in the dark. And Charlie once slammed on his brakes when a deer crossed in front of his car, and his four-year-old son in the back seat was flung forward, cracking a rib against the seatbelt. The boy ended up okay, though. The boy's mother, Sarah, even forgave Charlie, eventually.

Growing up in this country, it's etched in your brain that progress runs westward—following the Oregon trail or whatever. Like moving from Queens to Manhattan to a house in New Jersey where your kids have a backyard to get muddy in. Even starting in a town like Denfield—some 3,500 people surrounded by emptiness—the vast westward expanse still beckons, calling itself your manifest destiny.

So when I wanted to leave home, that's where I went. First working at the Turkey Hill, then pushing wheeled metal hoppers around at the quarry. I had no skill in that work. My boss Harper kept yelling at my mistakes. I didn't care. He hadn't fired me yet, and I was out west.

Charlie really wanted to get me pregnant, even though he had that kid already from Sarah. We met at the quarry and first hooked up at the quarry, beyond the drainage ditch where an abandoned wooden structure with a tarp gives privacy from the other workers who don't care anyway. And then the second time he was smiling and giggling and half-joking about how cool it would be if we made a kid right there behind the piles of stone. And next time it was like that too, but more serious. And then so serious it got scary.

I'd known Charlie's ex Sarah from the quarry, too—briefly, before Charlie started working there and she left the next day. We'd spoken meaningfully only once, late at night in the quarry office by the messy table strewn with invoices and work gloves that should have been put away in the shed. She told me how guilty she'd felt leaving Charlie—still felt, even. They'd even planned a wedding, but two months before, an outside force intervened. You see, Sarah had a woman, a friend she'd known since childhood and secretly adored until the friend's divorce, when things changed, and they grew closer in a way Sarah had only before dreamed about. Coincidentally, Sarah was trying to prepare her own wedding and finding it harder and harder. Until that fateful night in July when the friend showed up at the quarry and invited Sarah into her car, and the friend turned out to be wearing just a bathrobe, which inched further off her body as they talked. And that's when the friend confessed she was ready to fall into Sarah's arms and stay there for years and years and maybe forever, if it came too that.

Nothing is ever so simple. Two weeks later, the friend disappeared. Sarah called perhaps five times a day or more—the friend wouldn't answer. But Sarah couldn't go back to Charlie, she cried to me—not after she experienced what was possible.

Sometime during or maybe just after the fourth hookup with Charlie, and hearing him tell me for the tenth time how we'd make a baby and live by the quarry the rest of our lives, I decided I'd have to move west again, so I did. And there I was frying pancakes at a diner owned by a Greek family in Maple Hollow when, somehow, there was Charlie, again. I asked him how that was even possible and he said he's friends with the owners. Of course he was.

We worked side-by-side several days, no incident—he didn't even try anything funny. Then one evening in the kitchen he told me his son's mother had taken the kid, how he missed the kid so bad, but he was scared to go to court over it because he was behind on child support and they could put him in jail if she reported him. He said he wouldn't mind being in jail so much as his kid finding out he was in jail---that would break him.

"I don't understand why everyone always leaves me," he said, looking up at my face for an answer.

It was a moment I should have felt pity, I realized, but instead I wanted to flee even farther west---to a place where he wouldn't try to turn me into the next Sarah.

I called the front desk at the quarry and convinced them to give me Sarah's number from an old personnel file.

"I still have her pepper spray," I explained. "I need to return it." Pepper spray sounds feminine. They won't ask more questions.

"Sarah," I said when I got her on the phone. "I have a proposal for you."

It was a hot September afternoon when, at last, I spotted Sarah's ex-friend (and ex-brief-lover) at the Sheetz by the Turnpike where Sarah had told me I might find her. I leaned against the ketchup and mustard counter and waited for her to walk by with her hot dog.

"You look like you know how to change a tire," I said to her as her jeans brushed against mine while she leaned over for a napkin.

She smiled, and almost, I thought, winked at me, but didn't answer.

"Any chance you could help me with mine?" I persisted.

Outside, I pretended to just be learning her name was Sydney as we crouched on the ground by my beat up Camry and wrestled with the jack.

"There's something sticking to the wheel," Sydney said. "What'd you put gum on it?"

"Let me see," I said, as we both lay on our backs and tried to peer into the wheel from the inside.

Each time a car pulled through the parking lot, I wondered if this was the one—or whether he'd even show. How long could I keep Sydney lying with me under the this stinky car in the warm afternoon?

Then my phone buzzed, and I knew it was him.

"Where the hell are you?" Charlie's voice bellowed from across the parking lot. "You said meet you here for some 'emergency' and you don't even pick up your damn phone."

Sydney and I extracted ourselves, sweaty from exertion, our hair muddled. I pulled the left strap of my tank top back up, but the other still hung over my arm. The button on my shorts was undone. How had I managed that?

And then Charlie saw us, and he froze.

For a moment, Charlie seemed unable to speak—unable to assess the situation, unable to understand what he was seeing. Then he screamed:

"What the hell kind of shit is this?" he demanded.

It was a new side of Charlie, this forceful anger. If only he'd showed it back at the quarry, maybe I would have trusted he had the common sense not to murder me or something worse.

Sydney, who must have been equally shocked, scrambled to her feet and backed into the car.

"Charlie??" she yelled, as if she couldn't believe it was him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh don't try to run away again," Charlie sneered. "You think every time I find a woman who wants to be with me, you can swoop in and make her yours? Oh, and you'll probably ditch this one in two weeks like you did the last one."

Sydney couldn't respond, so Charlie went on:

"You're not getting away with it this time. You're getting exactly what you deserve."

He started advancing toward Sydney with the grace and determination of a tank. I looked around the parking lot to see who was nearby. A dirty red pickup in the far corner that'd been there a while. A state trooper's car partially visible around the back—but I couldn't remember seeing the trooper inside. No human being besides us three was currently in sight. Just the roar of the Turnpike reminding us of the continuing, foolish existence of the human race.

Charlie took a step closer to Sydney. It was strange to see Sydney scared to run from this man, just frozen with her back to the car. Charlie was a big guy. Not athletic, but large. Sydney was muscular but thin and short. Charlie was just a few steps away now.

Then a little boy's voice called out from the side of the parking lot:

"Daddy don't do it." And the three of us turned east in unison.

It was Charlie's kid, of course—yes, of course it was—waddling toward us across the parking lot, face orange from the setting sun. Did his words sound awkward? Not quite as urgent as the situation seemed to demand? Likely no one but me would be listening so closely—likely no one but me was worried if they'd sound rehearsed.

And so Charlie fell to his knees.

I could describe the next 20 minutes of sobbing, the dark well of thoughts Charlie tapped into, confessions I couldn't believe, as the sun dipped below the hills and it became night around us. But what I really want to talk about is the other half of my plan. You see, I had to offer Sarah something for her to help me out—hell, she even brought her kid to deliver the fatal rhetorical blow.

And so it was during Charlie's sob-spree that Sarah stepped out from around the Sheetz. No one immediately reacted—myself because I had to play dumb, and everyone else because—well, it was not clear why. The emotion, I guess. Sarah walked slowly until she was standing in front of Sydney, who did not seem to recognize her---or even, really, to acknowledge her presence.

"Sydney," Sarah said.

Still, no reaction. We were the only ones left in the parking lot now. An 18 wheeler drove by but did not stop.

Sydney did not look up, but she spoke:

"I hoped, so many years, you'd find me."

"Find you?"

"I thought I had to hide from you after what I did to you and Charlie. Or maybe I worried you didn't really want me—that you just wanted an excuse to get out of a bad relationship. Proof that something else was possible."

"Sydney—"

"I thought we might meet in the woods or something—somewhere romantic. Of course, since it's you, we met in... some sort of scheme you or your friend concocted."

"She's not my friend," Sarah clarified.

"Of course I'm mad at you—furious—but I've been mad at you before, and I forgave you. And at least I can stop being mad you haven't found me yet."

Sarah was starting to cry. Sydney went on:

"Anyway, now it's me who needs an excuse. Not to get out, but to come home." She looked around at our pitiful gathering. "Let's go, Sarah."

They drove off, one behind the other. It was just me and Charlie in the parking lot. He'd stopped crying and was sort of sitting dejectedly on a parking barrier. I walked over to him.

"You won," he said. "I don't know what game you were playing, but you won it. Take whatever prize you want."

"Charlie," I said, "you really think I won?"

"Obviously," he responded.

"And you know if you ever try to pull any funny tricks on me again, I'll get you even worse, and there's nothing you can do about it?"

"Yeah..." he agreed, gazing into the sky to the west that still held a dark blue light from the now gone sunset.

"Then follow me," I said, stepping over to my car (which did not in fact have a bad tire). "I know a great spot we can go behind the quarry."

[muchdan]

I know I haven't posted here in a while. Here meaning all three of my tumblr blogs: cappellapalatina (the general and hannigram-focused blog), busymarina (my studyblr account) and muchdan (the dan and phil blog). At different stages of my tumblr life, I've accumulated a few thousand followers on all of these combined. This is literally the biggest platform that I ever had. Which is why I wanted to pop up on your dash to share something. The very worst thing happened. My country is at war. I know you've been hearing about what's happening in Ukraine all around, but I realized that most of the news cover some high-level stuff -- the politics, the history, the horrors of war in scary numbers. Not many have heard what war has been like from the perspective of a normal person. Like me, my friends, colleagues. Just someone like you. Before the war, I lived in Kharkiv. It's a big, modern city. Every day, I went to work in the office downtown, went for lunch and shopping in the nearby mall, grabbed coffee with a friend, and spent evenings in my wonderful apartment. It was blissful life, truly. I didn't know it then. We knew Putin was going to do something. Kharkiv is close to Russia's border, and for the weeks before the war, we lived in constant fear. I started thinking about moving to Ukraine's western regions. I packed bags. This was heartbreaking. Imagine having to flee your home, your favorite place in the world. I also had a cat, so I couldn't take much stuff with me. I packed very few shirts, I didn't know if I should take summer clothes if I need them. I was hoping I'd return soon. It's been a month and I'm nowhere close to going home. I was lucky to escape the very first day -- on the bus, with my colleagues, their families, and pets. It took us three days to travel across the country and I've been here ever since. My partner and I rent an apartment from a nice old lady, but every day I miss home. I'm so angry that my life was stolen from me. I still have my job, my cat, all my family is safe for now, so I'm very lucky. But I'm so angry and devastated. Every day I try to check if my house still stands if it wasn't destroyed by bombs. I know this horror won't end any time soon. I know people who've lost their friends, families, pets. Those who haven't been in contact with their loved ones for weeks have no idea what's happened to them. Mariupol, the city on the shore of the Sea of Azov, is in a literal hell. People there have nothing, no food, water, electricity, gas. They have to drink snow, which is gone by now. They can't escape because civilian cars and buses are being shot by Russian soldiers. They live through some things we're used to seeing only in films or video games. I'm not asking you for anything. I just wanted to share what war is like from the perspective of a tiny human existing in the midst of it all. But I know that many of you want to help. Here are some of the ways to do that. Reach out to someone you know from Ukraine. Ask them how they're doing, tell them you're thinking of them. A few of my online friends messaged me since the start of the war and it was a tremendous support. Even if you can't help in reality, your words and your care mean everything. Host refugees or give them any support that you can. If you're in Europe, you can help refugees. Yes, you can share your home with them, but it's obviously not feasible for many people. But refugees still need so much information support. They're in a new country, they don't know the language, they're very lost and confused. If you know someone coming to your country, help them get around, translate for them, explain where they can get groceries, what apps citizens use, basically anything that can make their lives a bit easier. Donate. Please, don't send your money to huge organizations like Red Cross. They're cool, but their logistics are so complex and long that we likely won't get much from them soon. You can help volunteers that you know personally, maybe someone helping refugees or sending direct humanitarian help to Ukraine.

There's also a GoFundMe page that my company created, which operates through our American partners. I can vouch that this money will go where intended, namely to help people from my hometown Kharkiv. Of course, like and share this post if you can. If you have questions, ask away. I know Ukraine will win, but we still need to get through this horror. Thank you.

[vdlest]

The Roommate

Characters:

TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Neighbor!Reader

Summary:

Bucky Barnes as your neighbor is a good thing, especially when you need company. You two instantly became friends ever since he heard you listening to classic songs, and that you prefer "old but classic" stuff. To make the long story short, you fell for him, but when you confessed your feelings for him, he avoided you. And you thought that's how your beautiful start would end.

Warning:

Fluff

This is why you sometimes hate Sundays, you have nothing to do, and you're bored as fuck.

There's nothing to watch on Netflix, you have no new books to read, and no new episode of a podcast to listen to. So at the moment, you are just lying on your bed, staring blankly at your room's ceiling.

If only you're still living with your ex-roommate, Ana, the two of you must've talking gossips and having conversations about life nonstop. But she's not here since she moved to a different State last week already for a new job opportunity. She didn't want to leave you but she can't say no to a job opportunity, and you can't keep her from achieving her dream as well. So here you are, hoping that your next roommate will be just like Ana.

You were about to grab the remote control of your television inside your room when your phone vibrated, signaling that you have a text message.

Hey, I saw your post on the internet and that you're looking for a roommate. I'm interested and hoping we could meet today somewhere so we could discuss it.

You frowned a bit when you noticed that the sender of the message didn't mention any name nor introduce himself/herself.

Just when you're about to reply to this text, you received another message from the same number.

I'm Sam by the way.

Now that this sender finally introduced himself/herself, your confusion vanished, and decided to meet with this potential roommate of yours. Although you're still not quite sure whether this Sam is a guy or a girl, nonetheless, that's not important. What's important for you is that he or she is not a bad person and a heartbreaker.

You agreed to meet with your potential roommate in a nearby coffee shop in an hour. So you got up and went your way to your shower to prepare for this unexpected meeting.

The moment you entered the coffee shop you and your potential roommate agreed to meet on, you grab your phone and dialed the number of the person you're meeting, Sam.

Well, at least, you're not gonna die out of boredom. ───────────────────❥

"Hello?" you began when you heard that Sam already accepted your call, "This is Y/N. I'm already here in the coffee shop. Can you like raise your hand so I could see you?" you asked.

You roam your eyes around as you wait for Sam to answer in the other line.

"I'm right behind you," a familiar voice spoke on the other line.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard that familiar voice.

You slowly turn around and see for yourself if your hunch is right about that familiar voice.

Hell, you are right.

It was him. It was Bucky.

It was the man you fell for.

Your eyes met his blue eyes when you face him. He was still holding his phone to his hear when you two face each other.

Seeing him now made you remember how you told him that you like him and that you're starting to fall for him already, and at the same time, you remembered how he walked out of your apartment and broke your heart into pieces. He left without any words. He just left and avoided you from then on.

Well, not until this day came.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you asked him straight on his face as you end your call with your supposed to be a potential roommate and put your phone inside your bag, "And what kind of sick joke this is?"

Bucky took a deep breath as he moves a step closer to you, "You have every right to be mad at me, and I won't question it. I've been a jerk, an asshole, I get it. But I was hoping you'd listen to me," he said.

You scoffed, "Listen to you? Listen to the guy who walked out on me on the night that I confessed my feelings? That's a bit absurd, don't you think?" you sarcastically smiled at him as you ask him. You shook your head, "This is going nowhere. So long, old friend."

You were about to walk past him when he gently grabbed your wrist to stop you from walking away from him.

"Please, Y/N. I'm begging you," he made you face him again, "I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to avoid you as much as I didn't mean to love you."

Love you? He loves you?

He nodded, "Y/N, that night you told me that you like me and that you are actually falling for me, I was the happiest man alive. But that happiness faded away the moment I remembered who I am, and who I was. Instantly, I realized that you don't know me that well for you to love me that easily," he explained.

"Let's say you really do love me and that there's still I need to know about you," you pull back your hand away from him and crossed your arms in front of your chest, "Why tell me now? Why confess to me right now?"

"Because I fucking love you damn much already," he answered back immediately. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes for a second before he started talking again, "I tried my best to forget you, to forget what I feel for you but it's fucking too impossible. So I thought that if I'd let you know who I really am, who I was, I'll leave you the choice whether you still want to be with me or not."

You can't believe that this is happening right now.

A month ago, you realized that you don't have every time in the world to take your time to confess your feelings for Bucky, so you did confess to him. However, he broke your heart. And now here you are, you are very tempted to kiss him right now but you fought the urge to since you are curious about who he really is.

Bucky extended his hand towards you, "Come with me."

You took a glance at his hand before you look at him again, "I don't know, Bucky," you looked down and shook your head, "You already broke my heart and I don't think I have enough trust in you to come with you."

He chuckled, "You have a swiss knife on your bag, you have a pepper spray, if I do something vile to you, use it. I won't fight it," he assured.

Despite the heartbreak he gave you, you won't deny the fact that he's still charming to you. So yes, you ended up saying yes and coming with him.

➽──────────────────❥

"What the hell are we doing in the Smithsonian museum, Bucky?" you ask him as you both walk inside the museum.

It was a long drive from NYC to DC. You fell asleep the whole time you two were on the road. You wanted to ask him why does he have to take you to DC, but you were too tired to give a damn. So you let him take you to the place that will show you who he really is.

But you never thought you'd end up here in the Smithsonian Museum.

He didn't answer you, instead, he leads the two of you inside the exhibit made for the legacy of Captain America, Steve Rogers.

You chuckle and shook your head as you both walk inside the exhibit, "If we're planning to steal Cap's shield, I hate to break it to you but there's a new Captain America already," you joked.

"Yeah, I know," he casually answered, "I know him."

Your brows furrowed as you look at him, "The former Captain America or the new one?" you asked him, not sure if he's kidding or not.

"Both of them," he sighed and stopped walking. He faces you, "Before we proceed," he grabbed your hand and sighed again, "I want you to know that I love you, I really do. I also want you to know that I'm sorry for breaking your heart, for hurting you, but there's a lot of reason why I had to do it."

Your heart melted the moment he told you that he loves you. It wasn't the first time, but it feels like it. You wanted to tell him that it doesn't matter who he was and who he is because, for you, love is love. It doesn't give a damn about anyone's real identity. But you two have come a long way to back out now.

"Ready?" he asked you.

You nodded, "Yeah. I'm ready."

You and Bucky walked a few seconds more, but your body froze the moment you saw his picture inside Captain America's exhibit. He was beside Captain Steve Rogers.

"Battle tested, Captain America and his Howling Commandos quickly earned their stripes. Their mission, taking down HYDRA, the Nazi rogue science division."

"Bucky?" you murmured when your eyes landed on the picture of the guy standing next to you. You took a glance at Bucky and he was just looking at you and what your reaction will be. You look over Bucky's shoulder and saw a portrait of him plastered in a glass. You automatically walked there and check it for yourself.

"Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country."

There's both so much and too much to see in this exhibit, not the Captain America part, but the part where you realize that your neighbor, the guy you fell for is actually not the man you thought he is.

Beside Bucky's glass mosaic, you saw a video presented near it. It was Bucky and Captain Rogers.

"You weren't really kidding when you said that you knew the former Captain America," you said when you saw Bucky on your peripheral, looking at you, watching you.

"He's my best friend, and even he's gone already, he still is," he said.

You and Bucky walked around the exhibit more. He also showed you around Captain America's exhibit and even showed you the uniform he wore during his Howling Commando days.

You have no idea what to think or feel at the moment, but one thing's for sure, your love for him didn't fade away even if you knew who he really is and who he was, not even after he told you that he was the infamous Winter Soldier. You still feel the same for him and you have no idea why. Maybe because love is love.

After you two went ou the Smithsonian Museum, you two walked around the National Mall.

"Why did you think that showing me these would change my mind about you?" you asked him, breaking the silence between the two of you.

"Because I--"

You cut him off, "Because you assassinated people in the past?" you stopped from walking and faced him, "Or because you are a hundred and six years old man?"

"Y/N, you know---"

You cut him off again, "No, I don't know, Bucky. So tell me," you chuckled and shook your head, "Does these things supposed to change my mind? My heart? What I fucking feel for you? Well, sorry it didn't! Because even after I found out that you are Cap's best friend, that you were one of his Howling Commandos, that you were the Winter Soldier, and that you are an Avenger, I still feel the same way for you, I still see you as the guy I fell in love with, I still see you as my neighbor who likes Marvin Gaye so much that he listens to it through night and day, I still see you as Bucky Barnes," you told him.

The whole time you two were walking around the museum up to this scenic place in DC, you have nothing in mind aside from the fact that you were actually fascinated about who he really is.

Finding out that he's an avenger, that he's making this world a better place and saving it from going chaotic made you love him even more. Even the fact that he's a hundred and six years old man doesn't bother you at all and doesn't change how you see him.

"And if those things you showed and told me why you broke my heart, then I must tell you," you wiped your tears away, "You just wasted your time because it didn't change the fact that I love you. You told me that you're giving me the choice whether I still want to be with you or not, and I made my choice now, Bucky," you walked closer to him and held his right cheek, "I want to be with you."

Bucky held your hand that was on his cheek, and your eyes landed on his gloved hand because now you know why he was always wearing a leather jacket and covering his hand with gloves.

So you grabbed his hand and slowly remove the glove he was wearing, when you look at him, he was surprised by what you did.

"This is the hand that I will always hold onto, the hand that I will always choose to hold," you smiled at him.

You finally felt his vibranium hand on your cheek as he wipes your tears away, "I'm sorry if I had to hurt you that way. I'm sorry for breaking your heart, but I'm already here and I will not leave you," he pulled you closer to him and kissed your forehead, "I got you now and there's nothing else I could ask for," he pulled you again and this time it was the tip of your nose he chose to kiss, "I love you," he said before he finally claims your lips with his.

His lips dance with yours, and with every sway, you felt his longing, his love, and care for you. As cliche as it sounds, it was truly like your love for each other. It was pure and true.

"Who's Sam by the way?" you asked him after you two kissed, "Wait, Sam Wilson as in the Falcon?"

He nodded, "Yeah, the new Captain America. I asked him if I could use his name because I know you won't answer my calls," he said and sighed, "Anyway, you might have to take down your post about looking for a roommate."

You frowned, "And why is that?" you asked him.

"Because I'll be moving in with you," he revealed, which made your eyes widened in surprise, "Only if you want to of course."

You chuckle as you nodded, "I would love that."

"Just to be sure, you're my girlfriend now, right?" he asked you.

"For a hundred and six years old man, you're the most slow-moving one," you joked and run your fingers through his hair as he wrapped his arms around you, "I'm yours and you're mine, Bucky Barnes."

-v.dl